


Taking Flight

by Iamsherlocked07



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Family, Hurt/Comfort, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:26:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26418670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iamsherlocked07/pseuds/Iamsherlocked07
Summary: CJ reacts to the news that Agent Donovan has been killed. Toby is there to comfort her.
Relationships: C. J. Cregg/Toby Ziegler
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Taking Flight

**Author's Note:**

> One of my favorite episodes that I, of course, had to make CJ/Toby centric. Let me know what you think!

He was gone. CJ still couldn’t process that 6 hours ago Simon was on this very plane and now he was dead. If she was being honest, CJ couldn’t even process that she had an agent to begin with. She’d always said what she felt. She’d always defended women. Why was this time different? 

She spent what felt like hours walking through Times Square. The anonymity of being a heart broken woman in a big city was just what she needed. She needed to not be her for a little while. To let the sounds and people and change of scenery give her a break from press and agents and cameras. She needed to be where no one would care to find her. This would have been a perfect plan if not for the black Suburban she noticed circling the block behind her. Of course Ron sent a security detail. The paperwork hadn’t been processed. Suspects hadn’t been charged. Her stalker could still be out there, though CJ highly doubted that. The irony was that everything had come together moments before it came apart. 

It was getting late and she didn’t want her absence to be noticed. She walked back to the theater, meandering around the lobby until the show ended. She’d been looking forward to tonight. Getting dressed up, getting out of DC for a few hours. How quickly everything had changed. She was the first out of the theater and into the motorcade. Head down, shawl wrapped tightly around her. It was only a matter of time before the press learned what happened. Several moments later Toby and Sam slid in next to her. No one spoke. What was there to say?

When they got onto Air Force One, CJ picked the window seat furthest to the back. She didn’t want to see anyone. Didn’t want to talk to anyone. She wanted to look out the window and cry and maybe sleep for a while. Toby eyed her from across the plane. She could feel him watching her, trying to be discreet in his worry but failing miserably. He was tracking her. Trying to tether her. She wanted to take flight.

She suddenly felt nauseous and hurried her way to the bathroom. She vomited once. Twice. Tears lining her face. She tried to compose herself before heading back to her seat. They all knew she was upset but the least she could have now was her privacy. CJ combed her fingers through her hair, smoothed her dress. Took a few deep breaths. Her effort was futile; moments later the tears flowed again, silent sobs overtaking her. Her body suddenly felt too heavy to hold up anymore. Her knees buckled and she gave into a moment of sweet relief. 

Toby was distracted. Sam was talking non stop about Ritchie and the optics and motorcades and Yankee stadium. He always did this. Talked too much to cover for the fact that he didn’t know what to say. Toby fidgeted, his fingers itching for a cigar. He looked around the plane, searching for her. CJ’s seat was empty, her coat and bag still there. He tried not to look worried. She was perfectly capable of being alone. Still, Toby felt uneasy. 

He excused himself and made his way to the press cabin. When he saw she wasn’t there, he turned back the way he came, scanning the seats. He made his way to the back of the plane when something caught his eye. A mess of Vera Wang fabric spilled on the floor.

“CJ,” he said with the realization. “Help! I need help over here,” he yelled, feeling eerily like he was back in Rosslyn. He hurried over, kneeling beside her. Her cheek was pressed against the carpet, loose strands of hair curtaining her face. He brushed it behind her ear, laying a large palm to her cheek. “CJ, can you hear me?” She made no movement. Toby was alarmed by how pale she was. How small she looked lying there. 

Two agents came rushing over. “Mr. Ziegler what—flamingo down! Flamingo down,” yellows one of the agents, the other kneeling next to Toby, checking her pulse. Leo came jogging down the hall. 

“What’s going on?” 

“I don’t know I found her like this” came Toby’s panicked response. 

Two more agents and the flight doctor appeared. 

“We need to move her to a private cabin. Let’s get the stretcher in here.” 

“No,” Toby shook his head, “there’s no way press won’t catch wind of that. We need to be discreet.” Decisively, Toby stooped down, gathering CJ in his arms, leaning her against his chest. It took him a minute to find a comfortable position before he stood, carrying her where the doctor instructed. 

CJ awoke to concerned murmurs, bright lights shining above her. She tried to open her eyes but the effort was too great. Instead her head moved side to side listlessly. 

A warm hand covered hers. “Shhh I’m here.” Toby. Thank god Toby was here. A cool sensation spread across her forehead and temples. She hummed in response. There were more voices and words she couldn’t quite make out. She was exhausted, tempted to drift back to sleep but the pressure on her forehead became more insistent, drawing her attention. The feeling was so earnest she couldn’t resist leaning into the touch. She needed more. More relief. She tried to say so but all that came was a small cry. The scent of his cologne became stronger, stronger, until his beard rasped against her forehead, his lips feather light. She had to see him. Needed to know she wasn’t imagining him. 

CJ tried with great effort to open her eyes. The first few times she tried they fluttered shut with exhaustion and shock from the sudden brightness. “It’s okay, take your time,” he hushed. She couldn’t quite make out his next worlds but blessedly, the lights above her dimmed. Finally CJ’s eyes opened, Toby coming into view. His tie was undone and the top few buttons of his shirt were open. She noticed the absence of his jacket and realized it was lying across her body. Toby was studying her, concern and love playing across his face. One hand covered hers, the other wiping her brow with a washcloth. CJ began remembering the events of the evening. Simon. Her chest ached. Before she had time to steel herself, a man in a uniform appeared above her. 

“Good evening, Ms. Cregg. I’m Lieutenant Whitmer, the in-flight doctor. You passed out, probably from a combination of exhaustion and dehydration,” he spoke with authority and CJ nodded, taking in the information. “We’ll get some fluids in you and then you should take it easy the next few days.”

“You know who my boss is, right?” CJ quipped. “Yes ma’am,” the doctor smiled and turned to the other agents, discussing the treatment plans. Someone put a bottle of water in her hand and she drank clumsily. 

“Hey kid,” she heard as the couch gave way to movement. The gravely voice filled her with warmth. “Leo—“ he perched next to her. “The President wants to see you. Can I send him in?” 

“Toby, help me up.”

“CJ I don’t think—“

“I will not be laying here when the President walks in whether you decide to help or not.” 

Leo tried to hide the small grin spreading across his face. “I’ll give you a few minutes,” he said, heading for the door. Toby gave her a hand so she could sit up. The room tilted and she gripped his forearms tightly. “Easy,” he warned. She took a few moments to adjust, as if she’d forgotten how to stand. CJ gave a small nod and Toby stood with her, slowly. Her grip on him tightened and he stepped closer. “Okay, here.” He settled next to her taking some of her weight. His arm wrapped securely around her waist. As if on cue, the President walked in. 

He looked surprised to see her standing.  
“CJ—“ 

“Good evening, sir.”

“I wanted to make sure you were alright. Listen, I want you to take the next few days off...”

“Excuse me, sir. I appreciate it but that won’t be necessary—“

“It wasn’t a suggestion, CJ,” his tone kind but firm.

“Yes, sir.” The magnitude of the last few weeks plowed into her and she swayed slightly. Toby pressed closer, meeting the President’s gaze. 

“I’ll let you rest but...CJ...I truly am very sorry about Simon.”

“Thank you, Mr. President,” she managed around the lump in her throat. “Goodnight, sir,” came Toby’s response. As soon as the door closed, he guided her down onto the couch. 

“You should lie down,” Toby instructed. She was too tired to fight. Too lost to do anything but listen. CJ laid her head in his lap. Toby’s hand rested against her cheek, his thumb smoothing her skin. 

“You’ll stay with me for a few days,” he offered in a tone that suggested he was trying to ask a question he already decided the answer too. 

“Okay,” came her reply.

“Okay.” 

Within moments, she was asleep again. When they landed Simon would not be there. Her grief taking his place.


End file.
